


this is the story of a boy who grows up

by despertarse



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Cheese, Coming Out, Established Relationship, Gen, M/M, angst angst angsty angst, so much cheese i'm sorry, with a happy ending, ziall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-25
Updated: 2013-02-25
Packaged: 2017-12-03 11:41:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/697875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/despertarse/pseuds/despertarse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>after a fight with Zayn about coming out, Niall doesn't show up for the European leg of the Take Me Home tour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	this is the story of a boy who grows up

**Author's Note:**

> so. I finally have a day off from work and I should probably be finishing other things I'm working on, but this happened so I hope you like it.
> 
> title from story of a boy by between the trees. 
> 
> (and oh god the ending is so cheesy I couldn't help it please don't kill me)

"Ni, please. Don't go."

The words tumble out of Zayn's mouth, a final plea for Niall not to leave, for things to not change, for them to just go to bed and pretend this argument never happened.

Again.

Niall pauses, his hand on the door knob. His shoulders hunch, quaking as he folds into himself. 

"Don't wait up," he croaks finally and wrenches the door open. 

It slams behind him, the bang echoing through the large open main room of their home. 

Zayn stares at the door, willing his feet to move, to run after him, but his chest feels tight and he can't breathe. The blood rushes in his ears, killing the painful empty silence, and he wonders for a moment if this is what drowning feels like. 

He legs give way and he half falls, half sinks to the cool tile wood floor. 

The fight wasn't a new one and it makes his stomach churn. 

It's been happening more often than he'd like recently, but it's never ended with Niall leaving. Usually Zayn wipes his tears away, peppers his face with kisses as he murmurs soothing promises and 'I'm sorry''s in his ear, and they go to bed. 

He wishes, harder than he think Niall really knows, that they could do what Niall wants. He doesn't want to spend the next tour stealing kisses in empty corridors praying no one walks around the corner, unable to even hold hands around people other than their bandmates and the closest crew. It breaks his heart a little more every time he has to say he's dating Perrie, ignoring the boy on the sofa beside him. 

He loves Niall. He does. But the moment they come out is the moment they get sued, the moment the band falls apart, and he can't do that to the others. This is their dream too and he just can't end it without giving them a choice. 

So they do what they have to do to survive in this business, to not break their contracts with management.

They hide their relationship from the public, keeping it between themselves in a house that sometimes feels too much like a prison. 

But where is Niall now? Has he taken refuge in a bar in the city, gone and gotten a seat on the first train to Ireland, made his way to a friend's flat? Or is he out in the foggy London night, rain falling around him? 

Zayn's heart lurches again, floundering at the thought that for the first time in nearly two years, he doesn't know where Niall  _is._ He's never not known in all the time they've been together, and before when they were merely bandmates. All the lads are good with making sure at least one person knew where they were to stop the others from worrying. When you live in each others' pockets for so long, sudden absence turns from relief that you're alone, to concern that you're alone. 

From somewhere in the kitchen Zayn hears his mobile beep with its text message alert. It beeps twice more as he struggles in his hurry to haul himself up, hoping it's Niall. 

It isn't. 

It's Liam, three messages in quick succession. 

_\- just wantd u 2 kno niall is here wit me._

_\- wat happend mate? hes crying and wont tell me y._

_\- hes staying here 2nite. ill get him 2 the airport 2morro._

_  
_Zayn breathes out, types a quick ' _thanks for telling me. see you tomorrow,'_ and presses send before locking the phone screen. 

How long has he been sitting on the floor if Niall has already made it all the way to Liam's? Too long, if the ache in his bum and legs tell him anything. He rubs his eyes with the back of his hand, blinking as he peers at the time on his mobile. It's already after one and they're meeting at the airport at eight for their flight to France. 

He sighs and drags himself up the stairs and to their bedroom before falling onto the bed, glad he's at least already wearing a tank and sweats. He curls up under the duvet and flings his arm out to cover the body that isn't there. 

 

***

Niall unlocks the door without making a sound. It's half five and the place is still, Zayn still upstairs asleep. 

He chuckles darkly at the irony of his bags already being packed and waiting by the door, as if the universe knew today would be the day he'd leave. Almost everything he can't live without is already in the luggage. The photographs of his family he pins to the wall of his bunk on the tour bus, his favourite clothes, the stuffed giraffe Zayn had given him with a sheepish smile last Valentine's day. 

He stands in the centre of the main room and looks around.

He loves this house. 

He and Zayn had picked it out together just before last Christmas and it's perfect for the two of them, young men on the top of the world. Large open living spaces, a state of the art kitchen, extra bedrooms for friends to crash somewhere more comfortable than the floor. They'd even had the den renovated into a decent sized, soundproof recording studio where Niall could muck about on his guitar and Zayn could sing to his heart's content. They'd already spent hours in it writing songs together and more than once, fucking up against the soundboard. 

Niall slips into the room now, gazing at the platinum records that line the walls. They have two of all of them, one set displayed here, the other along the upstairs corridor. All the statuettes, from their first and second BRITs to their moon men, sit in a row across the top of the case that houses their record collection. 

He is still in awe of their success, that he, a boy from Mullingar could be in one of the biggest pop groups in the world and they could have achieved so much in a relatively short amount of time.

He runs his hands across the soundboard, looking into the recording booth. The microphone stands in the centre of the tiny room, preparing to collect dust in the next few months. 

Niall turns to stand on his tiptoes and bring the Bambi down from the top of the cabinet. Of all the awards they've won, the little deer is his favourite and he wants to keep it as a reminder of what he's about to lose. 

Back in the entry, he tucks the statuette into one of his bags, nestling it amongst his clothes. It only takes a few moments before he's climbing the stairs silently. The door to his and Zayn's bedroom is open as it always is, light beginning to filter in through the curtains at the window. 

Zayn is asleep, looking tiny and fragile where he's curled tiny on his side of the large bed. His long lashes don't quite cover the dark circles under his closed eyes. Niall has always thought he's beautiful when he sleeps, but this time, as he says goodbye, his heart leaps into his throat. 

"I'm sorry," he whispers and presses a feather light kiss to Zayn's forehead. "But I love you too much to do this anymore." 

Then he's gone from the room, fighting tears and collecting his guitars and bags to take them out to the waiting taxi. 

All the pain of the last year hits him again as he's getting into the back seat. Hiding his feelings has worn him down so much he doesn't recognise himself anymore. He's lost the boy he once was. Maybe it's a part of growning up, maybe he's becoming a man, but this is never who he wanted to be. He never wanted to be the type of person who has to hide his love and his sexuality. It had taken him long enough to come to terms with the fact he was gay when he was twelve, back in Mullingar where kids were cruel and he'd first learnt how much words could hurt. When he'd signed his contract with Mdoest he hadn't thought it would matter, that he'd be to busy to date anyone anyway, it wouldn't be so much hidden as something he just didn't talk about. 

Then he started to see Zayn differently. A part of him had always seen the older lad as something more than a friend, but it wasn't until they were wrapping up the American leg of the Up All Night tour did it really change inside of him. He'd never thought Zayn would feel the same but he  _had_ , loving him back with his whole heart and that made Niall so happy he could burst. He wanted to shout from the rooftops how much he loved Zayn Javadd Malik but his contract denied him the right. 

He knows he should have told Zayn, or Liam last night, or even management, but he can't. He needs time to be alone with his feelings and forget about everything that's happened. 

For the first time in too long, he needs to be  _selfish_. 

He turns his phone off and tosses it into his rucksack.

***

Zayn's alarm sounds shrilly at quarter til, jerking him from sleep. He'd finally dozed off around five after tossing and turning across his side of the bed, never venturing into Niall's. 

He silences the beeping and sits up, running his hand across the stubble on his jaw. The car will be here for him in fifteen minutes, just enough time for him to shower and put on clean jeans and a t-shirt. He tugs a beanie over his still damp hair and adjusts his fringe before heading downstairs, pausing to shove his phone charger into his rucksack. He drops it on top of the pile of luggage waiting by the door, stopping short when he realises only his things are there. Niall's are gone. 

He sighs, deciding Liam had asked Paul to pick up the bags on his way to pick them up. Liam always thinks ahead, always makes sure everyone has everything they need and are where they need to be. 

Zayn is still munching on some toast when the car arrives and he offers a slice to Dan, one of their regular security detail. The other man takes it and holds it between his teeth as they load the luggage into the boot of the car. 

"Where's Niall?" Dan asks, closing the lid and looking around for the hyper blond. 

"Stayed with Liam last night. Paul's got Liam today, right?" 

Dan nods as they get into the car. 

"Should arrive a bit ahead of us." 

Traffic is normal for a Tuesday morning, heavy but moving. Zayn spends the trip biting his fingernails and willing the car to move faster so he can get to Niall. He doesn't feel like himself without him cracking jokes with Dan from the other seat and poking him in the ribs. 

They make it to Heathrow fifteen minutes before they're to meet the others and zip through check-in via the VIP line. Security takes longer because they're mixed in with the other passengers, ignoring the paparazzi as they take off their shoes and walk through the metal detector. 

Finally, they're being ushered into a large private conference room where the rest of the band and their entourage is already assembled. The room is crowded with staff from the sound engineers to stylists, interns and members of management. The band themselves are off in a corner surrounded by instrument cases. 

Liam looks up as Zayn approaches, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. 

"Niall stop off at the loo?" he asks. 

Zayn stops in front of him. 

"No? How would I know?" 

"He's not with you?" 

"No?" 

Liam is out of his seat in a second, leaving Zayn to stare at the now empty chair as it hits him. Hard. 

Niall. 

Isn't.

Here.

He hears someone curse, feels someone removing his rucksack from his shoulders, sees a mess of brown curls cross his vision as arms snake around his waist. 

"Breathe, Zayn. In and out," Louis instructs from behind him. 

He has to find Niall. 

He jerks against the arms holding him in place, unable to control the strangled sound coming out of his mouth. 

Harry lets go but forces him down into the chair Liam vacated. 

"What happened?" he asks quietly. 

Zayn slumps forward, head in his hands and Louis reaches out to rub soothing circles into his back. 

"We had a fight last night and he went to Li's. Li texted me saying he was there and he'd get him to the airport today, and when I got up this morning his luggage was gone so I assumed Paul had stopped off to collect them before he went to get the lads." 

He says it all in one breath and he can feel the glance Louis and Harry exchange above his head, even if he can't see it. 

"I really fucked up," he whispers and leans into Harry when the tears prick his eyes. 

Harry envelops him in his arms again, making soothing noises under his breath. It doesn't stop Zayn from hyperventilating, choking on the air in his lungs as he struggles to breathe. 

Then one of the members of their management team is standing in front of them asking questions. Where would Niall go? Did he say anything to any of them? What did Zayn do? Had Niall been planning this, god forbid if he'd been planning this, he's in so much trouble -

" _Shut up,_ " Louis hisses from behind gritted teeth, one hand clenched into a fist at his side, and the other resting protectively on Zayn's beanie. "No one is to blame for this. Just do your job and fucking find him." 

The woman recoils like he's slapped her before her face hardens. She stalks off, snapping at one of the assistants to get Maura and Bobby on the phone. Everyone in the room's eyes follow her and now they know something is very, very wrong.

Liam finishes speaking with Paul and returns, joining the little huddle that's now surrounding Zayn. 

"Zayn, I need you to look at me for a second," he says softly, hand coming to cup Zayn's cheek. Zayn obliges him, glasses fogged and nose running. "Was it the same fight?" 

Zayn chokes on the single word. 

"Yes." 

Liam visibly deflates, shoulders sagging. He's been waiting for this, for Niall to finally have enough and leave after a year of hiding. The Irish boy was never meant to hide. He wears his heart on his sleeve, loves openly and freely, just like he laughs. It isn't him to keep a secret like this and Liam knows it's been tearing him apart. But he did it for Zayn, because Zayn had asked him to. A part of Liam almost hates Zayn for it, but he doesn't ask why. 

Zayn calms down enough to find his mobile in his pocket. There's only one message, from Louis that says ' _TOUR DAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYYY :DDDD'_ and nothing else. He hits speed dial 1 and presses the phone to his ear. The call rings twice before the automated voice tells him Niall isn't available so please leave a message. 

"Niall. It's me. Where are you? I'm so sorry for everything I said last night and ever. I love you so much. Please, just -" his voice breaks and he swallows down the lump in his throat " - when you get this, call me." 

Paul walks over then, face stony as Zayn hangs up the call. 

"Lads, we need to begin boarding." 

"But, Niall -" Harry starts and Paul shakes his head firmly. 

"You have commitments. You need to get on the plane and go to France. We will find Niall and send him when we do."

Louis' jaw is tight, defiant.

There are five members of One Direction, not four. They can't just go to another continent without one of their own. 

Yet it all comes back around to what's gotten them in this situation in the first place - the contract hanging over their heads. 

Zayn is the first to rise to his feet, shoulders resolute. 

"Let's go." 

Harry gapes at him, green eyes wide. 

"Zayn, we can't just -" 

"Paul's right, Harry," Zayn says defeatedly, tiredness evident in his voice. "What would we accomplish by staying here?" 

His whole body aches like it's missing something vital. Air. Water. Sleep. Niall. But there's nothing he can do.  

***

 

By the time the One Direction team has begun arriving at Heathrow, Niall is already on a plane to Ireland. He's paid in cash, hoping management doesn't ask the airline to run his name, only thinking to check his credit card. Check in and security were a breeze. The paparazzi had been alerted to their departure time being over an hour later, so no one is really milling about. Any other people who notice him must only think he's getting ready to go to France and the rest of the band aren't far behind in arriving. The stewardess doesn't pay him any more mind than she would another passenger, for which he's immensely grateful. 

As soon as the plane is in the air Niall slips his headphones on and tries not to think about everything he's leaving behind. It's only beginning to set in, now that the journey has begun. 

It isn't just Zayn and their home. 

It's Liam and Louis and Harry and their friendship. 

His career. 

Possibly their careers. 

And suddenly the guilt is overwhelming. He's doing the thing Zayn fought so hard to not do - breaking up the band, crushing the dream so soon after it's begun. 

All because he's being selfish and can't keep feeling like he's less than human. They can continue without him. They don't need him. But they treat him like their brother - they won't  _want_ to do it without him, why didn't he think of that? 

He feels weak, like he can't raise his tingling fingers to press play on his iPod and there isn't enough oxygen going to his brain because he can't breathe. He doubles over in his seat, wheezing and clutching his aching chest. 

"Mate, you alright?" the man next to the window asks. 

"Bad flier," Niall lies breathlessly, raising a shaking hand to pull his headphones off. 

A moment later the stewardess is pressing an air sick bag into his hand. 

"Breathe, Mr. Horan. In and out," she says. 

Niall scrambles to open it, pressing it around his mouth and nose, inhaling and exhaling through his mouth. He just wants this feeling like he's about to die to stop. 

The feeling passes in a few long minutes until he's slumped down in his seat and breathing normally again. The guilt, however, remains. 

It's still there when he lands in Dublin. And when he collects his bags from the luggage carousel. And when he hails a cab. 

And when he finds himself on his father's doorstep. 

Bobby opens the door mere seconds after Niall rings the bell as if he's been standing just inside the entry way, waiting for him. 

"Dad-" Niall starts but he can't finish. He feels himself crumble, the tears starting again as his father pulls him into a hug in the doorway. "Dad, I think I fucked up." 

Bobby pulls his sobbing son into the house, bags and guitars and all. He removes the rucksack from his shoulders, duffle from his arm, guitar case from his hands, and settles him on the sofa. 

"What happened, Ni?" 

"Zayn and I have been fighting. Cos he doesn't want to come out and break up the band but I'm so tired of hiding, I can't do it anymore, Dad," Niall says, blue eyes glassy with tears and exhaustion. "So I left, and I realised on the plane, the lads won't want to continue without me so I basically did what he was trying not to." 

"What about you?" Bobby asks quietly, reaching out to run his fingers through his son's hair. He hates to see him like this, falling to pieces beside him, and he hates what the band's management has done to him. He'd quite like to wring all their necks for breaking his boy the way they have. 

"It's exhausting, pretending to be someone I'm not," Niall sighs. "And I love him so much it hurts sometimes. I can't keep on like that."

"So don't keep on like that."

Niall shakes his head sadly. 

"I-I can't. I won't. I just feel so guilty." 

His lips tremble before he falls forward into his father's chest and his sobs pick up again. 

In a few minutes Niall cries himself out, eyelids drooping.

"Get some sleep," Bobby murmurs and stands to pull the blanket off the back of the sofa and place it over the boy.  

Niall is out almost instantly, snoring lightly through the thickness of his throat, curled up on his side. 

Bobby looks down at him for a long moment before taking the mobile out of his son's pocket and wandering into the kitchen for his own phone where he'd left it after the angry call from the management company. They blamed Niall for this, not themselves. They asked him to call them the boy sleeping on the sofa in the other room, but he doesn't owe them anything. They've destroyed the person his son once was and he's not going to give him back to them. 

Instead, he thumbs through Niall's contacts for one of the few people his son trusts, entering the number into the phone in his other hand. 

***

It's only an hour flight from Heathrow to Charles de Gualle, and Zayn spends it tucked under Liam's arm in their seats in first class. All four boys have been silent, too worried about where Niall is to say anything, each lost in their own thoughts. 

When they land it feels like they've been in the air for days instead of mere minutes, and the first thing Zayn does is turn on his mobile. It lights up with incoming alerts, but none are from Niall. They're from his family, a few friends outside the band, Perrie, wishing him luck on the tour. 

He turns to Paul, in the row behind them. 

"Anything?" he asks desperately. 

Paul shakes his head, giving the boy a sad look. 

"I'm sorry, Zayn." 

Zayn turns back to the front of the plane and slumps down in his seat as the other passengers stand and begin to gather their things, his bandmates included. They're whisked through the terminal and into one of the many waiting vans, leaving members of the staff to collect their luggage. They ignore the fans and the paparazzi who scream their names, barely aknowledging them. After a brief argument with one of the management team, it's just them and Paul in the van for the drive to the radio station. 

"Here's what they're going with," Paul starts immediately after the van is moving. In the five minute walk between the gate and the carpark, he's been brought up to speed. "The press is already aware Niall didn't get on the plane with us, and even if they weren't they sure as hell are now. There's a rumour he was spotted at the airport, but they know he's not in France. Modest is pushing the story he's sick and will be joining us later." 

"So they expect to be able to bring him out here," Zayn mutters darkly, "when they don't even know where he is."

If Modest hasn't found him yet, they won't. They have their fingers in everything. Surely they'd know by now. 

He leans against the window of the van, cool glass to the burning skin of his cheek as he tries not to start crying again. All he wants is Niall safe. At this point he doesn't care where. If it's with him, awesome, if it's not, awesome. As long as he knows he's alright. 

Somewhere in the vehicle a phone rings, 'You've Got a Friend In Me' filling the space. 

"Really, Liam?" 

Liam ignores Harry in favour of fishing his mobile out of his bag. It's still ringing when he finally finds it, the screen lit up with an unfamiliar number. 

"D'you know this number?" he asks of his bandmates, holding the phone up. 

Harry and Louis shake their heads, Zayn doesn't look up. 

Liam decides to answer it anyway, something he's been told not to do, but something in his gut tells him it's a good idea. 

"Hello?"

"Liam," the thick Irish accent says on the other end of the line. "It's Bobby Horan. Are you with people you can freely speak in front of?" 

"Yes," Liam replies instantly. "Have -"

"Yeah. Niall's with me." 

Liam closes his eyes, breath leaving his lungs with relief before he can stop it. 

"Thank god." 

Zayn's head snaps up at the way Liam's voice sounds so relieved. 

"Who is it?" he demands. 

Liam holds his hand up, signaling him to be quiet because Bobby has begun speaking again and he can't hear properly. 

"I'm keeping him here for a while. Can you do me a favour? Don't tell Modest he's with me. They'll only get someone on a plane to come collect him, and he's -" Bobby breaks off, voice splintering. "He's not alright. I don't know if he will be again. I'm giving him a few days to decide if he wants to come back, and whatever happens will happen then. But tell the other lads he's safe here as long as Modest doesn't know where he is. Okay?" 

"Yes, sir," Liam says quickly. The promise fills the silence of the van, all the boys staring at him. "Tell him - tell him we love him, yeah? And we hope to see him soon." 

Zayn all but launches himself at Liam across the van, forgetting about his seatbelt. He struggles with it for a brief second, but Liam is already hanging up the call by the time he's free of it. 

"Where is he? Where's Niall?" 

"Lad, put your seatbelt back on!" Paul says sternly from the front of the van. 

Liam yanks Zayn onto his bench and buckles him in beside him, Harry shifting to sit next to Louis in the place Zayn has left open. 

"Paul, I know you work for _them_ ," Liam bites the word out scathingly, "but nothing I'm about to say can be repeated." 

Paul has the audacity to chuckle. 

"Unless one of you was dying, nothing you said would ever leave the sacred place of our van," he reminds him. 

"Niall's with his father," Liam says, turning back to the three other boys who are looking at him like he holds all the answers. It feels like he does - he at least has the one they need to hear right now. "He arrived a bit ago. He's a mess, but he's safe." 

"Alhamdulillah," Zayn mumbles under his breath, again and again like a prayer, head falling into his hands. 

***

Three days Niall spends in the bed of his childhood room, alternating between sleeping and playing stupid games on his iPad. He hasn't showered once, his father only bothering him to come downstairs and eat. He doesn't eat much, he can't, but he drinks so much tea Louis would be proud of him if he knew. He takes it far from how he does normally, strong with nothing in it instead of his usual milk and two sugars. The bitter taste remidns him of his feelings. 

As evening falls on the third day, Bobby sits down at the edge of the bed where his son is sprawled out on his stomach with his head on his arms, iPad long abandoned. 

"So what are you going to do, Ni?"

Niall buries his face in his arms. 

"I miss Zayn," he says, voice so muffled his father can barely understand his words. "I miss the other lads, and the interviews, and the performing, and being part of something bigger than myself. But mostly, I miss myself." 

"And?" Bobby prompts. 

"I can't go back. Not if I have to keep pretending." 

"What if you didn't have to pretend?" 

Niall unburies his face to roll his eyes as he scoffs. 

"Management would never let me come out. They say it'd make the band 'less ascessible and there'd be backlash from parents who don't want their kids to be fans of a gay kid in a band."'

He half-heartedly raises one arm to make his fingers into air quotes. 

"And that's why Zayn won't?" 

Niall sighs. 

"Yeah. Same reason I'm so torn up like. He doesn't want to hurt the band. He doesn't think it's fair to Liam and Louis and Harry is it all falls apart because of us." 

"Well have you talked to them about it?"

"...No." 

"Maybe they'd understand."

Niall buries himself into the duvet again. 

"Yeah, and maybe they wouldn't." 

"Call Zayn, Ni." 

***

Three days Liam, Louis, Harry, and Zayn spend telling management they don't know where Niall is, but their sudden calm with the situation has the whole Modest team suspicious. They perform in Paris to a screaming crowd, sharing Niall's solos, but they don't have to say the songs sound empty without his voice mixing with theirs, harmonies filling out. The next night in Amneville is worse. They're all feeling the loss of their missing bandmate, but Zayn is the worst, listless on stage, missing cues. As soon as they're off stage, he gets pulled aside by the same blonde woman from two days previous and is yelled at to get his shit together. They're already missing one member of the band, they don't need to lose another. Louis comes to his defense, pulling Zayn away from her as soon as he hears her yelling. 

Zayn allows himself to be dragged away wordlessly. He hasn't slept in three days; he's too tired to argue. Louis forces him back into their dressing room where Liam and Harry are colamboring about, arguing over who gets first shower before they have to get back on the bus. 

"Zayn, I know you're hurting, but -"

"Don't fucking give me that shite," Zayn growls, drawing himself up to his full height for the firsl time since he watched Niall walk out. "You think I know how I feel right now? My best friend, my  _boyfriend_ , has left me the night before the biggest tour of our lives, the most important tour of our careers. I don't know if he's coming back to me, or to the band, at all. Cos he won't return my phone calls or answer my texts and yeah, I'm hurting. It bloody hurts because I love him and I fucked up." 

"Zayn, it's not your fault," Harry starts softly. 

"Except it is! I told him we couldn't come out for the sake of the band!" Zayn is yelling now, voice trembling as he wildy looks around at the boys around him. Liam and Harry have stopped horsing around to stare. "I didn't want to ruin this for the rest of you!" 

"Zayn. No. No no no no no." 

Liam moves forward and takes Zayn's face in both of his hands, forcing the other boy to look up at him. 

"We thought you were doing this because you didn't want your family to have to deal with the backlash. Not for us. If you coming out hurts the band, who the fuck cares. You and Niall and your happiness are more important to us. You're our  _brothers_ , Z. It hurts us to see you unhappy." 

"But -" 

"No buts," Harry speaks up, wandering over to stand behind Liam's shoulder, his eyes and voice resolute. "If you two want to stand on stage and hold hands or snog or whatever, we will be standing behind you, fending off management with our microphones." 

"Yeah!" Louis supplies and rushes them, throwing his arms around Zayn and Liam, tugging Harry in too. Leave it to Louis to lighten the mood. 

Zayn feels the tears in his eyes as he's crushed in the embrace, nose against Liam's chest and head somewhere under Harry's armpit. 

"I love you lads. So much." 

"We love you too, Zaynie," Harry coos, pressing a kiss to the top of Zayn's head. He turns serious again. "But really. We mean it." 

Zayn's heart soars. He has their blessing. All the fear, the doubt of the past year suddenly mean absolutely nothing. His best friends, his brothers, will support him and Niall no matter what and that feels incredible. His heart twinges when he remember Niall isn't here, isn't even speaking to him. 

They're still standing in a huddle, all of them a mess when Zayn feels his mobile vibrating in his back pocket. 

"Get that will you?" he asks of Louis, who fishes it out to look at the screen. 

"It's Niall," Louis says and the phone is out of his hand before he can say or do anything else. 

"Niall?" Zayn says breathlessly. He's holding the cell to his ear like a lifeline, knuckles white around it. 

"Zayn," Niall breathes, his chest aching at the sound of his boyfriend's voice. "I-"

"No, Ni. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for everything, and I just talked to the lads and they don't care." 

"They -  _what_?"

"They support us, Ni. If you want to come out, they will back us with Modest." 

Niall stops breathing. He has to, because all of a sudden he can't think and Zayn is speaking gibberish.

" _Zayn._ But what if management doesn't let us -"

"Then let's not give them an option. Fuck them, Niall. Meet us in Antwerp and just. Let me kiss you on stage and tell everyone in that arena how much I love you." 

Niall doesn't think twice before he's climbing out of bed and heading towards the bathroom for a shower. 

"Okay." 

***

 Niall isn't entirely sure how he makes it to Belgium undetected, but he does. Paul picks him up at Antwerp International in an inconspicuous black car as One Direction are set to take the stage at Sportpaleis. 

"Good to see ya, lad," Paul says gruffly and pulls the small blond into a one-armed hug. 

"You too, Paul," Niall replies with a nervous smile. 

He's going to vomit, he knows it. He's absolutely terrified of what management are going to do to them after this, but another, larger part of him just wants to get to the other side. 

The band is already on stage when they arrive at the arena, just as they'd planned. With the show more than half over, Modest wouldn't dare cancel it when they realise what's happening. They can't refund half a show only to have to play it again. 

"Niall! Where have you been?" someone from the management team demands when they see him coming through the crowded corridor to the stage. 

"Been busy," he responds simply, taking his ear monitors and head mic from a sound technician. 

His hair is sticking up in all directions, he's wearing his own clothes instead of the tour wardrobe, and now he's standing behind the large LED panels that separate the main stage from the back production area. What the hell is he doing?

"What are you doing?" the woman growls, taking a hold of his arm to pull him away and get an explanation. 

"Don't touch me," Niall hisses and roughly jerks his arm out of her grasp. "I'm back, isn't that what you want?"

The woman stares at him before rolling her eyes and turning on heel to leave. 

Someone must have said something about Niall's arrival into the other lads' ear monitors because when Over Again finishes seconds later and the applause dies down, it's Zayn who begins to speak. 

"I recently hurt someone I love very much, and I was an idiot for thinking my best friends wouldn't understand. But lucky for me they do. So this next song is for him. Niall, if you would?"

Niall takes a deep breath, hands gripping his guitar tightly, and steps out into the stage lights. 

The roar of the crowd is deafening, excited screams mixing with the confused ones. All Niall can see is Zayn sitting on the steps leading up the risers, Louis, Liam, and Harry grinning behind him. Zayn rises to his feet as Niall begins to play the opening chords to Little Things, and when Zayn holds his microphone up to sing the first verse it's suddenly apparent to the crowd - and everyone backstage - who this song is for. 

But right now, in this moment, Niall is the only thing that matters. Niall who is standing in front of him with his fingers gliding over his guitar, Niall who has forgiven him and is allowing him to do this, Niall the love of his life. 

Zayn sings lead all the way through the song, Louis, Liam, and Harry singing the harmonies behind him.

Niall stays silent, focusing on keeping his shaking hands from fumbling the chords, a difficult feat as he's too busy staring at Zayn to keep entirely steady. 

When Zayn finishes the last line of the song, he takes a step forward into Niall's space, cradles his jaw in both hands, and kisses him hard. Niall's hands fall from the neck of his guitar, song ending more abruptly than it should. Not a single person in the audience cares - they're too busy cheering. Zayn can't help but think his life has never been mroe perfect than in this moment. 

"I love you," he breathes, pulling back just enough to speak, forehead still resting against Niall's. 

Niall grins, his guitar slipping round to his back so he can wrap his arms around Zayn's neck. 

"I love you back," he says, voice amplified a hundred times. 

**Author's Note:**

> and six hours of my life. 
> 
> the plot evolved into something entirely different - in the original, Niall is gone for six months, travelling and sending Zayn postcards that Zayn doesn't get til way later. can't decide which I like better, so I may post that one too.


End file.
